


Just Another Murder Mystery

by CannibalisticTeddyBear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Crime, Investigation, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:19:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalisticTeddyBear/pseuds/CannibalisticTeddyBear
Summary: (non-magic AU) People are turning up dead all over London and Arthur is at his wit’s end. It doesn’t help that his partner on the case isn't exactly the best cop England’s ever seen. Arthur knows he has to either catch the murderer or turn in his badge so he enlists help from a rather unorthodox place.Severus Snape was seventeen when he murdered his father. He's made a new life for himself, not a perfect one but a life none the less. His therapist has been telling him for a while now that he needs to get out and meet new people. So when a detective contacts him, desperate for help on a case, he sees it as a great opportunity to just as his therapist instructed.





	Just Another Murder Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> Thought of this a while ago and finally started writing it. I'm hoping at least some people will enjoy it. I hope to update it as often as possible but it might not happen very consistently. Not really sure where the idea for this story came from, I guess it probably sprouted from my love for crime shows. Criticism is welcome and very much appreciated. I hope it turns out okay, I'm still a bit iffy about posting it simply because my writing isn't exactly the best. Anyway, thanks for the click and enjoy!

Blood. Good god, there was so much blood. The crimson liquid stained the grey carpet, the emerald curtains, and the man's once white button up shirt. His dead eyes stared toward the ceiling, glazed and unblinking. He lay sprawled out with his upper half hanging off the couch and bottom half resting on the floor. His rather long, blond hair was clotted with clumps of his own blood. A plate of half eaten cookies lay to his side and a glass of milk rested on the coffee table in the center of the room. The scene was lit up by the christmas tree in the corner, under which lay a pile of neatly wrapped presents. A fire crackled in the hearth and three fully stuffed stockings hung above, each one adorned with a letter. 'L', 'N', and 'D' in that order. It really would have been a wonderful scene had it not been for the corpse in the middle of it all.  
Arthur sighed and set down the picture, rising from his desk and making his way to the exit. Stepping outside, he breathed in the cold winter air and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Normally during this time of year, people would be home with their families. He should be with his kids and his wife, watching Christmas specials and drinking cocoa. He should not be at work and he certainly should not have to look at pictures of dead men. As it was, however, he was already on thin ice with his boss and he couldn't exactly be taking any vacation time at the moment. Reaching into his pocket, Arthur pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He brought one to his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag and grimacing at the putrid taste. He also shouldn't be smoking. He should be quitting. He had promised Molly months ago that he'd stop but that wasn't going as well as planned. He'd given in because fuck, being a detective was a stressful job and Arthur would be damned if he said nicotine didn't help. It was a murky day. The sky was grey, clouds and fog blocking out the majority of sunlight and casting a rather gloomy mood on the city. He swore he could hear Christmas music playing from somewhere, probably one of the many shops nearby. A man dressed in a Santa costume passed by, ringing a bell and holding out a bucket for donations to some charity. Arthur had begun to notice that nothing about this holiday seemed that jolly anymore. He hated to admit it but as it was, even the decorations in his own home weren't very enjoyable thanks to the fucker everyone was calling the "Christmas Killer". Not the most creative bunch, were they. Just as he was lighting another cigarette, he heard someone approach him. Turning, he came face to face with his partner. Arthur was pretty sure he knew what this meant.  
"Another one?" He asked. To his surprise, and relief, Gilderoy shook his head.  
"The wife of the latest victim is here." He explained. Arthur quickly extinguished his cigarette before heading back inside.

\---

The boy trembled, bent over the counter as he gripped the side of his face. He could taste blood and knew he'd probably lost another tooth. The man continued to scream, moving closer still, gripping the boy by his hair and pulling hard as he shouted in his face. The knife was so close, so tempting. The boy's fingers closed around the handle and he turned to face his attacker.  
...  
"Severus?" A calm voice broke the sudden silence. It took a moment before the response came.  
"I went home with a man last night." Severus spoke with an almost sigh. Minerva adjusted in her seat into a more upright position.  
"Oh?" She said. He nodded softly.  
"I went to a bar to get out more, like you said I should. That's where I met him." He said. She jotted something down on her notepad.  
"And how was the night?" She pried. He shrugged.  
"We talked for a while and then we went to his apartment and fucked and then I went home." He said bluntly. Minerva seemed to consider her next words before speaking.  
"Severus," she said, "I think what you need right now more than sex is just someone to talk to. Maybe a friend."  
"You're my friend." He stated in a matter of fact tone.  
"Well, of course I am." She said. "But most people have more than one friend. You should go and meet some people, I mean really meet them. Next time someone just wants to have sex with you, I would suggest maybe trying to take things a little slower." Severus paused and observed her for a moment.  
"You're doing it again." He said.  
"Doing what?" She questioned. Severus pointed at her hand. Minerva had been unconsciously tapping her pen against her notepad. She had a habit of doing so and had found rather early on during her sessions with Severus that it bothered him. She apologized and did her best to hold her hand still. "So," she continued, "did you want to finish telling me the story?" Severus stayed silent and looked down toward his hands which were folded neatly in his lap. There was a long pause. "You don't have to, you know. I understand it's difficult and I'm willing to wait for as long as it takes." Severus sighed.  
"You already know what happened. I took the knife and stabbed my father to death. It was all over the papers." He muttered the last part under his breath. Minerva adjusted her glasses.  
"Yes, but I'd like to know what you were feeling in that exact moment." She clarified.  
"I don't know." He said. She could tell he was starting to get a bit irritated. He was never all that comfortable with talking about the one thing he had been sent to her for specifically. Her attention was quickly turned to the sound of her alarm beeping. She turned it off and clicked her pen.  
"It looks like we're out of time." She said. As Severus got up to leave, Minerva gripped his arm softly. "You really have been making a lot of progress, Severus. You got quite a bit farther in the story this time and you've been getting out to meet people. I'm proud of you." She gave him a small smile and he nodded and thanked her before grabbing his coat and walking out.

\---

Arthur was used to talking to spouses of victims. He was used to the tears and the pleading for justice. He was used to watching widows and widowers break down and was even used to comforting them when possible. He was used to seeing people at their worst. This, however, he was not used to. This woman didn't break down. She didn’t cry, she didn’t beg him to find the man who’d murdered her husband. No, rather she sat upright and poised, speaking carefully and clearly. She looked prim and proper, not a hair out of place. Hell, even her makeup was done. Her clothes complemented the gem that hung delicately from her neck and matching stud earrings. However, there was something off. It wasn’t that she didn’t seem to care that her husband had been murdered. Rather, it was that she seemed to want it to look like she didn't. Or at least she wanted to keep up her image. Every so often, Arthur could hear it in her voice or see it in her eyes for a split second before she continued to uphold her posh image. He could tell that she wanted so badly to cry. She was holding back tears and Arthur was waiting for the moment when she would break.  
“As far as I know, Lucius didn’t have any enemies. Sure, there were people who didn’t exactly like him but no one who would have gone as far as to kill him.” She finished with a sip of her tea. Her hands were trembling. That was when Arthur remembered the picture. He hadn’t heard anything about a third person living in their home so why were there three stockings?  
“Did you have anyone else living with you?” He asked. Narcissa shook her head softly.  
“No.” She said. Arthur almost reached for the picture to point out the third stocking but decided against it since it’d probably just upset her. He’d considered the possibility that it was for a pet but had remembered that they didn’t have pets. Something about Mr. Malfoy being allergic.  
“When I came to the scene, I noticed that there were three stockings above the fireplace. Who was the third one for?” He said. She seemed apprehensive about answering.  
“We have a son,” she said, “I didn’t want to mention him because I didn’t want him to be dragged into this. He’s only six years old. The ‘D’ on the stocking stands for Draco.” He inadvertently gave her a slightly strange look at the name. “It’s a family name.” She explained. Arthur nodded and jotted down a few words in his notebook.  
“You didn’t mention him to the police?” Arthur questioned.  
“No,” she answered, “he’s not here anyway. He’s been at his grandparents’ house since the eighth.” Narcissa let out a deep breath before speaking again. “Is that all?” Arthur nodded and the woman stood up to collect her things and leave.  
“Oh, actually I did have one more question.” He said. She stopped and turned toward him. “This may seem weird,” he continued, “but did you leave a plate of cookies and glass of milk out before you left that night?” She gave him an odd look.  
“No, I don’t usually bake. We have a maid who does that but he was out.” She explained. Arthur nodded once more and thanked her. With that, she turned and left. Arthur pulled the pictures out again and looked through to see if there was anything he’d missed. He reviewed all the cases they had so far, trying to connect the dots. The only connections found so far were that each victim had been a married father of one, save for the first maybe since his wife was pregnant, and the cause of death. The strangest part of it all, Arthur supposed, was the plate of half eaten cookies and glass of milk that had been found resting next to each victim. Each of the wives had said they hadn’t left them there so the only logical conclusion was that the murderer had. Things weren’t looking good as none of the victims’ wives had been able to identify any probable murderer. It was now December sixteenth and Arthur knew another victim would appear any day and he couldn’t help thinking of his own wife and kids. Molly, their six sons, and little Ginny. He hoped to god that they were safe. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his office door opening. He looked up and watched as GIlderoy stepped in.  
“Anything?” He asked. Arthur shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Gilderoy huffed and plopped down on an empty seat. Taking the pictures, he looked over them. “It’s so weird.” Arthur looked up and gave a questioning expression. “I mean,” Gilderoy went on, “who the hell murders someone and then leaves them cookies and milk?” He chuckled. “Are we sure they weren’t just on Santa’s naughty list?” Arthur let himself smirk at that.  
“Doesn’t Santa give the bad people coal?” He asked, playing along. Gilderoy shrugged.  
“Maybe he upped his game.” He said. They both chuckled at that. Arthur thought it felt pretty good to know he still had a sense of humor. Gilderoy took on a more serious tone. “You don’t think it’s him do you?” He asked. Arthur snorted.  
“Who, Santa? Pretty sure it’s not him.” Came his reply. Gilderoy rolled his eyes.  
“No, not Santa, that one guy. The one who killed his dad?” He explained. Arthur sighed.  
“Gilderoy, we’ve been over this, that was an isolated incident. His father attacked him and in the heat of the moment, the kid grabbed a knife and stabbed him in the throat. Nothing more to it.” This wasn’t the first time he had brought up the case from ten years back.  
“Look, all I’m saying is that he killed his dad a few days before Christmas eve.” Gilderoy said.  
“So?”  
“So, all of these are happening around Christmas time.” Now it was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “Plus,” Gilderoy continued, “every victim so far has been a dad. And they all died from stab wounds. Doesn’t it seem a little coincidental?”  
“So what, you think he turned into some vigilante? Killing dads because he thinks they’re gonna hurt their families?” Arthur asked impatiently. Gilderoy leaned back and crossed his arms.  
“Maybe, I don’t know. All I know is that he’s crazy and he’d probably kill again.” He finished. Arthur set down the papers he’d been holding and glared at his partner.  
“He had a motive.” He said.  
“He thought he had a motive. And maybe he thinks he still does.” Gilderoy retaliated. Arthur sighed again.  
“It’s been ten years. Ten years, Gil. I’d say he’s moved on. He’s spent his time in prison and I’m sure he’s probably seeing a therapist now. There is no reason to think he’s the one we’re looking for.” Gilderoy gave another short huff before standing.  
“Whatever you say. I’m getting coffee, you want some?” He said. Arthur stood to follow him out of the room.

\---

Returning home from his visit, Severus entered his apartment complex and made his way to his room. He made a mental note to fix the numbers that used to hang on his door. The three and nine were still in place but all that remained of the last number was the faded shape of a four. He unlocked his door and stepped inside. Immediately, his cat came to say hello. Minerva had said a pet could help keep his depression away so he’d gone out and gotten one, a little female Tabby who he’d named ‘McGonagall’ in honor of the woman who’d insisted he bought her. He picked her up and petted her before setting her down and making his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he didn’t find anything there particularly appetizing and finally decided he wasn’t hungry. As he walked toward his bedroom he tripped and almost fell over his coffee table. He supposed maybe he should open his blinds to let in some light but decided against it. Too many children who’d overheard his story from their parents or the news or wherever else had made a game of seeing who was brave enough to throw something at his window or even try to knock on it just to run off screaming. He didn’t feel like dealing with that so shut his blinds stayed. He didn’t change before plopping down on his bed. Instead, he just removed his shoes and curled up under the blanket. The little ‘mrow’ indicated that McGonagall had come to join him and he felt her snuggle up beside him. Severus allowed himself to drift off.  
Knock knock knock  
He was jolted from his almost sleep to the sound of someone at his door. Groaning in annoyance he rolled over on his side and tried to sleep again.  
Knock knock knock  
Irritated, Severus threw off his covers and made his way to his door. He opened it as far as the chain lock would allow. He looked the man outside his door up and down. He was rather tall and fairly thin. He looked no older than maybe mid thirties but his face was lined with hints of wrinkles and there were a few gray streaks in his otherwise red hair. The man’s blue eyes locked with Severus’ black and the latter gave a glare.  
` “Yes?” He asked impatiently. The man cleared his throat softly.  
“My name is Arthur Weasley, I’m a detective investigating the recent murders-” Before the man could finish, Severus shut the door in his face. He’d had quite enough of detectives and cops and investigators and wasn’t about to speak to another. Arthur knocked again. “Please, if I could just speak with you for a moment-”  
“Go away.” Severus spoke loudly and clearly. The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking once more.  
“I was wondering if maybe you could help me. I’m sure you’ve read about the recent murders that’ve been happening.” Was he insinuating that Severus had something to do with all of this? Sure, since the murders started, he’d been getting more weird, warry glances than usual from people who knew who he was but no one had outright tried to accuse him of anything.  
“I have nothing to do with them.” He said.  
“I know, I’m not saying you do. I just mean that I need help.” Help? What was he talking about?  
“You’ll have to look somewhere else.”  
“I think maybe you could help me figure this out. Please, my job is on the line.”  
“Not my problem.” This didn’t deter the detective.  
“I need this. I can’t lose my job, I’ve got a family to look after.”  
“I understand that you’re in a hole here but it’s not my problem. I don’t know anything about the murders so go away.” Severus was sure he’d made himself clear this time. However, he was wrong. The stubborn detective would not back down.  
“I just want to speak with you, nothing else. If I find that you really can’t help, I’ll leave you alone and you won’t hear from me again.” Came his voice. Severus didn’t budge. “I’ll pay you.” That caught his interest. He could use some money, judging by the fact that all he had in his fridge was spoiled milk, a few eggs, and some half frozen hot dogs.  
“If I let you in, will you quit yelling?” He asked. The man nodded. Reluctantly, Severus opened his door more fully and allowed the detective to step inside. He motioned for Arthur to sit down. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked flatly. Before long, Severus had made tea for the two of them and sat down with the man in his living room. McGonagall had come to inspect the stranger and had quickly decided she did not like him, hissing and scratching at him before darting to Severus and laying on his lap.  
“What do you want?” Severus asked pointedly. Arthur seemed a bit surprised by the forwardness of the question but quickly collected himself.  
“We have little to nothing in this case and I need more information. I was hoping maybe you could help me build a profile of the killer.” Arthur regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth as Severus hummed softly and looked away. The annoyance on his face was quite apparent. “No offense.” He quickly added. Severus shrugged.  
“You learn to live with it.” He muttered. Arthur swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  
“Do you think you could help me?” He asked. Severus sighed and set down his drink.  
“Look, I’m flattered but I don’t know anything about ‘building a profile’. I’m not a cop, I’m not a detective, I’m just a person who did something fucked up as a kid.” He leaned back in his seat and exhaled.  
“Well, there was one other thing.” Arthur said. Severus looked up at him. “My partner on the case thinks you’re the murderer. Maybe if you helped me, that could convince him you’re innocent and help to stop people from trying to accuse you.” Severus considered his words. Just before he declined, Minerva’s words popped into his head. ‘You should go out and meet some people.’ This counted as ‘meeting people’, right? He began to realize that there really wasn’t anything to lose by helping this man and if there would be money in it for him, what could be the harm?  
“Alright.” He said.  
“What?” Arthur questioned.  
“I’ll help you.” Arthur smiled at this. Severus quickly added, “but I’m expecting payment.” Arthur nodded in agreement.  
“I’ll gather any information that I can and come back here.” Arthur spoke as he rose from his seat to leave. “Oh, ah, before I go,” he said, “just make sure you don’t tell anyone about this. Me giving you information about the case isn’t exactly legal.” Severus nodded in understanding and watched as Arthur gave an awkward goodbye before leaving. Rather quickly, Severus walked to the door and locked it. Then, he made his way back to his bedroom to resume his nap, cat trailing closely on his heels.


End file.
